


Aching

by StopitGerald



Series: Oneshots [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Chronic Migraines, Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Like Physical Hurt tho, migraines, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 18:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12823356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: Togami Byakuya suffers from migraines. Naegi understands.





	Aching

**Author's Note:**

> oof this is a vent fic because ive been in endless pain for weeks and my meds have stopped working. I want to work on another highschool age AU, but I want this one to focus on Togami. Itll be like June in the sense that I'll finish it before I start posting, so itll be a long while. I'm getting back in the swing w/ a oneshot tho.

It aches.

Oh, _god_ how it aches.

 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so agonizingly painful if it let up every now and then, but Byakuya Togami’s head has been _pounding_ for the last twenty-four hours. Just above one prim, dirty blonde eyebrow, it feels as though an entity he can’t see has taken to beating the spot senseless with a sledgehammer. 

It makes him feel congested, his vision wavers, his ears ring. 

His bedroom is pitch, and he takes a moment to be grateful for the blackout curtains he’d purchased when he’d moved in a while back. He doesn’t make to roll over, or to move at all, really. It just aches so _goddamn much._

He manages to whine, an utterly pitiful sound escaping his pouting lips, but it seems to no avail. Wherever his ‘housemate’ is, he isn’t within earshot. Though, that might be a good thing...

Makoto Naegi is a man of excitable tone, big gestures, and well-lit rooms. Those three things in conjunction sound just about as close to a death wish as jumping off of the roof of their apartment building right now. Togami doesn’t whine again, there’s no point. 

Another _throb_ and it seems he has no choice. The drilling pain makes his vision waver and warble, and he coughs with the effort of staying in control of his sight. The shaking in his chest sends him into a fit of painful spasms from movement and the whine, whether he likes it or not, rips from his throat. 

 

Maybe Makoto happened to be closer,

Maybe Togami happened to be louder,

It really doesn’t matter, because the brunette swings the door open anyways, letting a beaming ray of _death_ stream in from the hall. 

 

Togami, then, does make to roll over, even if only the slightest bit, and closes his eyes tightly. If the hall light was going to be on, he figures he should at least keep it from blinding whatever is left of his vision right now. The bridge of his nose, uncomfortably tight from his ‘headache’, protests at being snuffed in the pillows. 

“Byakuya?” 

Naegi Makoto wrings a dishtowel around his hands, drying them off. He comes closer, his footsteps sound like shocks of thunder to Togami, and he’s a nanosecond closer to snapping at the intruder, no matter how badly it’ll hurt. 

“Shut up.”

It’s all he can manage, huffing out in tense breaths afterward, trying to still the _godawful agony_ in the left of his forehead. Everything hurts now, not just his head. His fatigued body aches alongside his migraine and now nausea has set in. His stomach churns with every wrinkle of that stupid, bright blue dishtowel clenched in Naegi’s little fist. 

“What’s wrong? Bad dream?”

Naegi sits aside him, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder gently. The touch, despite all the pain Naegi’s caused this morning, is reassuring and welcomed. 

But no, it’s not a “bad dream”, it’s a much more familiar agony. After everything that Togami Byakuya and Naegi Makoto have seen themselves caught up into, it didn’t end without leaving its scars. Bad dreams were among the side effects of the trauma, but migraines have been Togami’s mortal enemy since his early teens.

A childhood of being surrounded by computer screens and white sheets of paper all filled with fine print never did him any good. The constant management of seven-digit division and the trillion word count contracts were the little heathens that’d bewitched his head to begin all this pain in the first place. It was one of the reasons he’d spent all his time alone.

“No.”

Naegi hums, and whether it’s knowingly or not, Togami doesn’t care. In all honesty, he wants Naegi to shut the door and lie down, or to _leave._

“Shut the-“

He coughs again, and it sends him into another fit of pain, pain, _pain!_ His head protests the movement with scraping, terrorizing torment. The sledgehammer is now a butcher’s knife, punctured just above his beautiful brow bone with malice. The erupting geyser of _throb_ that keeps him from finishing his command doesn’t manage to make him yell, but his gasp of agony seems to be enough to worry Naegi.

“Ah- I’ll get you some water.”

Naegi scurries off, and _oh thank **god**_ the door closes behind him and that death ray evaporates along with it. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his chest flows with the movement in heavy up-downs. 

He’s no idea what time it is, but, frankly, it doesn’t matter. It’s time for him to suffer, that’s all he can stand to know. He whines again, partly because he hopes it’ll bring Naegi back into the room, and partly because it just hurts so much that has to let it out. 

He tries to think about anything but his pounding headache, about Naegi, doing his clumsy best to care for him, about his stupid colleagues, some of them present in this very building. God, why did he let Naegi convince him to move the two of them into an apartment again? 

His train of thought glides on very thin ice, one wrong move and the whole thing will be submerged in hypothermia-inducing waters. 

But the wrong move doesn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would.

The door swings open, but this time Naegi is quick to shut it back closed, very quietly at that. The bed dips with his weight as he sits again, and he places the back of his hand to Togami’s forehead as if he’s checking the fever of a small child. 

“You’re really hot.”

 

Silence for a second.

 

“Temperature-wise, I mean.”

Togami, almost, _almost_ cracks a smile at that. Naegi was silly in the sort of way that makes one think maybe he’s not very sharp, but Togami knows better. Naegi Makoto is his silly, clever boyfriend. 

 But all it takes is for that silly, clever boyfriend’s grip on his shoulder to jerk just a little too roughly, and ‘boyfriend’ transforms into ‘annoyance’.

“Ugh, stop-“

“Just hold on.”

Naegi cards fingers through fine strands of blond, a reassurance that he’ll be gentle, because that’s what Togami’s so worried about. And with that, he yanks the boy to roll on his opposite side, to face him. Togami groans with the effort, seething through his teeth at the sharp jarring in his head. 

“Sorry. Here,”

 Naegi offers him a water bottle, and it feels like ice on his simmering hands.

“I hate when this happens,”

Naegi bites his bottom lip, chews the pink, chapped skin. He brings his hand to toy again with blond locks, ever so gently. He pushes strands of half bangs out of Togami’s face as he sips from the water bottle. He’s sure to be quiet _quiet_ when he continues.

“I don’t like thinking you’re in so much pain.”

Togami just grunts as an answer, pushes the half-empty bottle back towards Naegi’s thigh. The boy accepts it, returns it to the nightstand, and relaxes.

“What else can I do for you?”

He askingly murmurs, slowly lowering his head to press a soft kiss to Togami’s temple. And it’s so soft that Togami has to vie for another one, tilting his throbbing forehead towards Naegi’s lips in incessant bother. Naegi chuckles gently, granting another chaste touch to Togami’s ablaze forehead. The one of the two who’s currently _not_ totally immobile raises his head up to peer around the room in its blackness. 

“Oh- here.”

Naegi awkwardly teeters on the edge of the bed, his hand gropes for the nightstand, and his fingers find the pull of the top drawer, yanking it open. The grating of the little wheels in their mechanical tracts sounds like hellfire, but it’s worth it when Makoto pulls out a bottle of pills. 

Togami, well, he doesn’t like the pills. Not really. He wasn’t some sort of patient in need of constant medication. But, regardless, he’s let this migraine go far too long to reject the little white ovals now. And Naegi won’t allow him to anyway, he’ll be made to have them now. 

A gentle hand cradles the back of his head, holding him up to aid him in taking another drink and swallowing the pills. They’re bitter and they suck, he thinks childishly, but in the end, he’d win anyway. Those stupid little pills would be dissolved and gone, and he’d  _ ~~(hopefully)~~ _ be free of this ensnaring headache.

Naegi shifts ever closer, lying against the headboard and wrapping an arm around Togami’s shoulders. His fingers go right back to their place on his scalp, hot from tension. Naegi is soft in his massaging, finger pads gently brushing his stands back and forth. The petting doesn’t cease when Togami moves. He shifts, slowly, into Naegi’s grip, and lets the boy cradle him to his chest.

“Do you feel any better?”

“Mm.”

Naegi chuckles again, 

“Good.”

 

Maybe it’d be hours before it subsided fully,

Maybe it’d go away within the next 60 minutes.

Regardless, Togami finds it easier to rest with his silly, clever boyfriend’s fingers in his hair and arms round his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> cue me wishing i had a s/o to take care of me ;;


End file.
